


They’re All Right

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Everybody Lives, Feelings Realization, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Protectiveness, Rejection, Sick Character, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: Kili had always been a sickly child, so Thorin always paid close attention to him. Somewhere along the way, however, he began to care for another reason. But, maybe the realization came too late for him.





	They’re All Right

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I started writing this on May 28th 2015, so it’s been over two years. I guess that’s around the time that my creativity draught started and I could barely write anything. I can write again now. It’s pretty relieving to not be constantly battered by feelings of inadequacy. In fact, I’m a bit worried that I’ve gotten overconfident. Anyway, this is based on the idea that everyone (esp. Thorin) was constantly worried about Kili and he had to keep assuring them that he was fine. Final editing was made under the influence of insomnia, so have some mercy on me please.

“I come as soon as I can,” Thorin said the second Dis opened her door for him. He entered the quiet house hastily, looking around. “Where is Fili?”

Dis sniffled. Her face was pale, her eyes wet and red around the edges, and she was shaking ever so slightly. Thorin tried to remain calm despite the growing panic in his chest. It wouldn’t do to trouble his sister even more by displaying his worry openly. “I sent him to be with Dori. Oin said… Oin said it might be contagious and…”

Thorin sucked in a breath sharply. The season was only beginning to change, the air chilling slightly, yet illness had already reached Dis’ household, and not for the first time this year. Yet, the diseases seemed to keep getting worse and worse, the hope thinning every time a new illness strike, somehow finding ways to Dis’ family despite all the finest medication and healers Thorin had at his family’s disposal. Sicknesses somehow found ways to defeat the defensive properties of the medicine to sink their deadly claws deeper and deeper.

“And your husband?” Thorin asked, quickly removing his coat and weapons. He had only entered Ered Luin after spending a few days of hunting with his trusted guards and friends when a message came to him that Dis required his presence urgently. He had left his hunting party behind, rushing to be at her side, a foreboding feeling quickening his steps. He had known, even without being told, what the unexpected message was about, having received it far too many times. But to be here, to see Dis’ distress and hear Oin’s prediction, still shook him.

“He’s taking Fili to Dori. He should return shortly.”

Thorin nodded absently, his mind not quite on his brother in-law. “Is Oin still here?”

“He’s in Kili’s room,” Dis replied, her voice cracking slightly.

Thorin paused, looking at his only surviving sibling. Together they had gone through so many losses. First their home, afterward their brother and grandfather, and lastly their father. They understood the meaning of grief all too well and had, in their own ways, devised ways to protect themselves against it. But fate was cruel to Dis, testing her over and over when she had a new family, when she should be happy. Thorin squeezed her shoulder gently, his heart breaking as she trembled under his hand. “Oin is our best healer. Kili will recover under his care. Now, rest. You’ll need your strength in the coming days,” he comforted her, injecting what confidence he had left into a smile.

Dis put up some protest, but eventually Thorin managed to convince her to rest and wait for her husband to return. Once assured that she’s comfortable, Thorin hastily went to his youngest nephew’s room. The sight that greeted him inside was heartbreaking. Kili, barely a decade old, was sleeping amidst a nest of blankets. He was extremely pale, his dark hair wild and greasy from how much he had been sweating, a light sheen of perspiration covered what little of him Thorin could see. He looked impossibly tiny and frail, and for a moment pessimism overcame Thorin, making him wonder if there was any chance of Kili surviving this illness.

Since his birth, Kili had been sickly. Unlike Fili who spent five years of his life bringing joy to his family with his childish antics, Kili spent most of his time under the attentive care of various healers. When he was well enough to leave his bed, he was carefully supervised and rarely allowed to leave the wing in Thorin’s Hall occupied by Dis’s small family. Those times rarely last very long, however, as he always somehow fell ill shortly, requiring him to rest in bed for days if not weeks while various healers sat at his bedside, watching his progress with pitying eyes. Thorin could no longer count the number of times he had heard pessimistic estimations of Kili’s survival. The child had always managed to beat the odds, but Thorin, no matter how confident he was of the physical resilience of the dwarf race, wondered how much longer the child could cheat death. He was so young, so fragile, and optimism and hope could only help so much to delay the inevitable.

Seeing that Thorin had arrived, Oin left Kili’s bedside to greet him. He looked grim. None of the playfulness he usually had was present in his expression. Thorin tried not to be discouraged, but still his fear of losing his sister-son grew.

“How is he?” he asked quietly as to not wake Kili.

Oin glanced at the bed, his lips twisting down. “He hasn’t improved since I arrived yesterday. If anything, the sickness seems to have taken a stronger hold on him.”

“Have you given him medication?”

“I’ve given everything I can but there hasn’t been any effect.”

Thorin felt some of his strength left his body. At Kili’s age, dwarf children would be running around, playing fights with their friends and siblings, pretending to be adults they longed to be, but Kili lay in bed, instead, fighting death. Oh, he had fought so bravely but his poor body, worn out by past sicknesses, wasn’t getting any stronger.

“Thorin, I think the child won’t…”

“Leave us,” Thorin interrupted, fixing his eyes on his sister-son.

Oin frowned at Thorin for a moment but then obeyed, leaving the room after examining Kili one last time. Thorin took a few seconds to collect himself before he approached the bed. Some of the medication on the bedside table was sadly familiar for Thorin. He gingerly touched Kili’s pale cheek and swallowed thickly when the unnatural temperature burnt his fingers. Using a cloth and a basin of water Oin left behind, Thorin carefully wiped away the beading sweat on Kili’s skin, hoping the cool water would give the child some comfort. He stilled when Kili shifted in his sleep, his brows furrowed deeply, struggling to fight sleep. A few moments later, Kili opened his eyes. His sleepy sick gaze wasn’t fully focused but he seemed to recognize Thorin when he saw him. Despite how ill and weak he must be feeling, Kili managed to smile, a testament to his strong spirit. Illogical though it was, Thorin’s spirit lifted at the sight.

“Knew it’s you,” Kili slurred out, his voice weak and scratchy from disuse.

“Oh?” Thorin wondered, returning the smile as genuinely as he could in the situation.

Kili nodded, his eyes half lidded. “I know your touch.” Then, it seemed that something entered his mind as suddenly he frowned and made to sit up despite his shaky limbs. Thorin stopped him and pushed him back down very easily. Kili struggle but his weak physique was no match to Thorin’s firm hands. “I’m fine. I can still go with you and Fili to ride the ponies tomorrow!” he argued hoarsely.

In the state of emergency, Thorin had forgotten all about a plan he had made with his sister-sons. Before he left for the hunt, he had promised to teach Fili how to ride ponies and let Kili go along with them. They had both been ecstatic, looking forward to his return, even begging Thorin to shorten his hunting trip so they could go sooner. Now, fear of missing the promised lesson was etched on Kili’s pale face. In his young life, he had missed so many important events due to sickness, forced to only listen to second-hand accounts instead of participating, forced to wait for undetermined amount of time before he could join his peers. His room was his entire world most of the time and he clearly wanted more, his curiosity calling for him, his loneliness further fueling the fire. Kili hadn’t even held his first sword, hadn’t gone on his first hunt, hadn’t seen Erebor. There was so much that he hadn’t experienced, that sicknesses stole from him. Thorin wanted to give his family and people the world, but he feared what the world had in store for Kili’s delicate body. So, Thorin shook his head and tucked Kili under the blankets again.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“But…”

“No,” Thorin said resolutely, looking at Kili pointedly to silence his protest.

Despite the heavy fog of his sickness, Kili recognized Thorin’s stern look and immediately settled down. “But I’m really fine,” he tried weakly one more time.

Thorin sighed and stroked Kili’s greasy hair, calming and lulling him back to sleep. “No, you’re not. You should rest to get better.”

“I want to go. I don’t want to be sick anymore,” Kili said sadly, even as his eyes slowly drifted close. “Don’t leave me behind,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of loneliness and illness.

Not one minute later, Kili was asleep again and thus was unable to see how he had broken Thorin’s heart with his weak plea. Thorin sighed tiredly. He didn’t want to leave Kili behind. No one did, at least in the beginning. Dis and her husband tried to treat Kili as a normal child despite his weak condition but the force of maladies was too strong. Try as they might, they couldn’t raise Kili the way they raised Fili, not when threats of sickness constantly hovered over the child. Kili was treated as precious but fragile porcelain instead of stone that dwarfs were made of and Thorin could see how it saddened him.

Kili made a small noise of distress in his sleep, breaking Thorin’s train of thoughts. He tossed around as much as he could in the cocoon of blankets. He might be sleeping, but he wasn’t quite resting, the illness relentlessly attacking him, weakening him further. But, Kili fought back as he always did. He might be very young and very fragile, but he was still a dwarf and a Durin no less. He was born a warrior though he didn’t know yet how to wield weapons and wear armors. He knew fighting well, in some way more than others his age, though his enemies weren’t visible. Thorin smiled despite himself. He knew some had questioned how such a weak dwarf was born into the mighty Durin’s Folks. Unlike Thorin, they didn’t see Kili’s perseverance. Unlike Thorin, they didn’t see a spirit stronger than many adults’ and hope and optimism beyond what was reasonable. Thorin had no doubt that Kili’s place was among the great Durin’s Folks and he intended to help his sister-son showed it to the world.

Fortunately Fili was completely understanding when Thorin postponed their riding lesson. Thorin wondered how aware he was of Kili’s constant fight with mortality. They never spoke of the severity of Kili’s sicknesses, but Fili wasn’t a fool. He must have seen their worries. He must have, in his own way, understood that they weren’t simple fevers which would go away in a few days. So, instead of complaining that the riding lesson he had looked forward to was delayed, he calmly accepted the news and asked Thorin and his parents to send Kili some of his toys to cheer him up.

The sickness persisted for over a week, requiring full attention from Kili’s parents and Oin, exhausting them completely. Thorin wasn’t unaffected, his worry making it difficult to perform his duties and keeping him up at night. He might have developed the persona of a distant character, but he wasn’t heartless. There were dwarfs – relatives and close friends – he held very dear to his heart, dwarfs he would do many things for, and Kili was one of them. Thorin visited and cared for him when he could, watching hope slipped away as the fever continued to burn and Kili’s moments of consciousness shortened. Affection and medicine could only do so much, Thorin understood that, but it didn’t stop him from grieving of what could be lost. However, one night, far too long after the beginning of the sickness, miraculously the fever broke. Thorin, who had demanded to be informed of any development on Kili’s condition, immediately came to the child’s bedside. He was still weak, still barely lucid, but he smiled when he saw Thorin and reached out for his hand. Thorin ducked his head when the too-warm hand touched him, hiding the relief in his face. He hadn’t realized how worry had suffocated him so until he could breathe again.

Thorin took both his sister-sons on the long-awaited lesson once Kili was strong enough to walk on his own. Thorin didn’t trust Kili to ride a pony yet but allowed him to brush the animal. It appeased him, although Thorin noticed his envious looks at Fili. With Kili’s legs still slightly wobbly, the five years between the brothers might as well be decades. Thorin would like to comfort him, but he felt that hollow words would only hurt and promises would only disappoint when broken. He let Kili learnt his limitations and watched, proud yet worried, as determination lit up the child’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Kili said when he and Thorin rode a pony to follow Fili, who was quickly mastering riding technique.

Thorin looked down to the young dwarf in front of him. He shifted his grip around Kili’s midsection, making sure that he was secure and comfortable, before answering. “What for?”

“For waiting for me and taking me here,” Kili said earnestly. He peered up and grinned. He was still rather pale but the sun kept him warm and brought some color to his pallor. If not for the fact that Thorin could feel how slim he was in his arms, he would think that this was an ordinary healthy dwarf child. “I told you I was fine, didn’t I?”

Thorin scoffed and kissed the crown of Kili’s head as a reply. Later that day he had to carry Kili home since he had gotten so tired and fell asleep in Thorin’s arms while riding, but Thorin didn’t mind at all, refusing when his attendants offered to carry Kili. He looked fondly at the child in his arms, who was sleeping peacefully and clutching his fur coat tightly. He made his way back to Dis’ home as quickly as he could without waking Kili, eager to protect him from the unfriendly world.

* * *

Although the days Kili spent outside of his bed, and then his room, and then the hall, grew longer, he still wasn’t allowed to get too exhausted as it invited sicknesses. Oin was a familiar face in his house, coming every few weeks to treat the smallest symptom of illness which they all knew too well could develop into something far more dangerous if not immediately treated. Kili lived by a strict regime designed to keep him healthy but had the side effect of causing him displeasure and misery, which he often willfully ignored or forgot. Fortunately, Fili always watched over him, coaxing him kindly or tempting him with promises of playing in his room when he grew slow in tiredness. Indeed, if not for him, Kili would likely follow his stubbornness and fall ill more often. Fili was his closest friend and Kili followed him faithfully, mimicking him in ways that both amused and saddened Thorin for they only made the discrepancies between the siblings clearer. Nevertheless, the brother’s steadfast loyalty and affection to each other were plain to see. It wasn’t surprising, therefore, when the time came for Fili to start his fighting lessons, Kili became restless and dissatisfied with the small world Thorin and his parents allowed for him.

“You’ll hurt someone if you swing your sword around like that!” Fili warned, drawing Thorin’s attention when he came to the training ground one morning.

His instinct had taken him there when he couldn’t find his nephews that morning. The early time of the day assured privacy and Kili seized the chance, slipping out of his elders’ watch to be with his brother. Thorin should be upset but he found that he couldn’t be. He had no power over his sister-sons and he especially had no power over Kili. His frustration was weak compared with desire to keep the child comfortable and happy. Even now, observing Kili practicing behind thick bushes surrounding the training ground, Thorin hesitated to intervene.

In the absence of training swords, Kili used a wooden plank. Thorin’s hands twitched when Kili winced, the wood abrading his soft hands. He must be hurt, yet Kili continued to swing his sword wildly from one side to another in a grossly inaccurate approximation of how warriors fought, gritting his teeth in determination all the while. He had determination in abundance, however his lack of training showed. Thorin could see that his hands were slipping, his grip loosening as his palms were abraded more and more. It was only a matter of time he injured himself or Fili.

“Stop!” Thorin ordered sternly as he approached the young dwarfs, hiding the fear gripping him tightly. Wariness and fondness filled him when Kili lowered his makeshift weapon and held Thorin’s gaze without fear. “You shouldn’t be here,” Thorin admonished, his voice cracking slightly.

Kili pursed his lips and frowned. “I want to train with Fili,” he stated, gripping the plank tighter even as his chest heaved.

While color had returned to Kili’s skin, he was still a little too pale. He had just recovered from yet another bout of illness a couple of weeks ago. Thorin’s heart clenched when he recalled watching Kili barely able to remain awake and eat. It had been a close call – the closest one yet – and Thorin feared putting Kili in any form of danger so soon. “You’re too young for that,” he said.

“Other dwarfs my age have already started to learn how to fight!” Kili argued. “Fili said there is a dwarf my age in his class!”

Fili and Thorin glanced at each other in exasperation. It was true that some young dwarfs had been sent to properly learn the art of war. Even those who hadn’t taken the lesson or were prepared for different paths had at least known how to play fight. Kili, on the other hand, wasn’t had never known any of that. Whenever he did anything with vigor, warnings immediately came. Too often, he was stopped before he could break a single sweat. Fili, indulgent though he was to Kili, had never fallen for his provocation, gently pushing him away when Kili attempted to wrestle him. It was to be expected that Kili would want to take part in the activities other children engaged in, but most other children didn’t have to face the risk of death since their births.

“No,” Thorin said firmly. “Either you only watch or go home.”

Kili looked at him with wide eyes to implore him to change his mind, but Thorin remained resolute. “Fine. I’ll watch,” he finally said sulkily.

Thorin’s company while Fili practiced only slightly pacified Kili. He protested when Thorin tried to examine his hands and scowled when Thorin insisted on cleaning the redness with cold water. His sour mood didn’t last very long, however, as young dwarfs began to flow to the training ground. He watched in excitement as the trainees learnt the correct forms of wielding weapons, attacked stationary targets, and sparred. For hours, he inundated Thorin with questions and listened carefully for Thorin’s answers. His eyes were bright as he tracked every movement in front of him, prompting Thorin to put his hand on his shoulder in case he decided to join the trainees. No such thing happened, however. Kili remained watching from afar, learning only by seeing and listening. When the day ended, he jumped to his feet and ran to Fili to tell him everything he had learnt. Thorin smiled at the sadly rare sight. When Kili announced that he would come again the next day, Thorin didn’t have the heart to refuse him.

Kili came with Fili to the training ground every day. He even managed to make a few new friends among the young dwarfs there. After a few days, Thorin dared to leave him alone so he could train, although not before covering Kili with his thick fur coat to protect him from the elements. He tried to watch Kili while training, looking to his direction whenever he had the opportunity. He searched signs of boredom or, worse, growing paleness, but if anything Kili seemed healthier than Thorin had ever seen. Perhaps it was the sun or his happiness to be there instead of confined in his room, but Kili glowed with smiles and laughter. Kili’s joy was, as usual, infectious. The great burden of worry was lifted off Thorin’s shoulders at the sight of the expressions he wished to stay with Kili always, the expressions he would strive to incite in Kili with all his might. This was the happiest Kili had been in Thorin’s recent memory. So eager was he to escape the confines of the mountain halls and be with his peers. He was always the first to arrive in the training ground, excited for another day of learning how to be a warrior. At the end of the day, Kili was the only one who frowned in disappointment when the trainees were dismissed, all of them groaning in exhaustion. Therefore, Thorin knew something was amiss when one day Kili excused himself early.

Kili claimed to be all right and a quick check did confirm the lack of symptom. However, Thorin noticed the way he looked away and fidgeted. Although suspicious, he allowed Kili to go. When training finally ended, Thorin stayed behind. He wished he had the faith of Fili, who rushed home once he heard that Kili had gone home before him. However, even with the limited time he spent with his youngest sister-son, Thorin felt he knew Kili well enough to detect his lie. After all, he had seen it more than enough whenever Kili was ravaged by sickness but still insisted that he was as healthy as any dwarf child in the mountain. How many times had Thorin seen that determined look upon Kili’s face as he lied about his condition? Too many times, Thorin thought sadly.

The training ground had been deserted for a while when soft footsteps drew Thorin’s attention. He stayed still, breathing quietly and steadily, not wanting to give himself away. A part of him still had hope that this was someone else, some other dwarf child eager to grow quickly and become a warrior. But, a surreptitious look confirmed his fear. It was Kili who stood in the middle of the training ground with a wooden practice sword in his hand that he probably borrowed from some unsuspecting child. Having learnt from his past mistake, Kili at least had the sense not to swing it wildly this time. He tested the weight in his hand, maneuvering the fake sword around. His movements were stiff and the sword nearly fell from his hands several times, but he had learnt from days spent watching and he was intent on putting his lessons to practice.

Thorin watched nervously when Kili approached one of the targets, unsure whether to act on his worries or indulge Kili. He flinched at the loud sound produced by Kili’s attack. The impact seemed to surprise the child as well and he was still for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the target as if it had fought him back. The look disappeared immediately, however, and he hit the target again and again with loud thwacks. There was a vague form in the way he stood and swung his sword, a hint of a great talent, but it was overshadowed by his lack of experience. Even worse, his true physical condition made itself known. All too soon, Kili’s skin flushed from exertion and rivulets of sweat ran down his body. Control slipped away from him, messing with his aims and making his slender legs shake. Still Kili persisted, grunting as he put all his strength into copying everything he had seen, clearly desperately wanting to train as much as Thorin desperately wanted to keep him safe from harm. A few times, Kili staggered back, his body unable to withstand the back force created by the sword hitting the target. His exhaustion was clear, but he still continued, driven by desire to be one of the young future soldiers until suddenly, in one attack, the sword bounced from the target and slipped from his tired hands. Kili let out a sharp pained cry when the wooden sword his forehead.

Without thinking, Thorin left his hiding place. “Kili!” he shouted, running toward his nephew. His heart seemed to stop when he saw fresh blood on Kili’s face. Quickly, he knelt in front of Kili and pulled him to sit down. He hadn’t realized how he was trembling until he brushed away Kili’s wet hair to stop the bleeding with his handkerchief. He had seen battles and tragedies. He was familiar with chaos and death. Yet the sight of Kili’s bloodied face rattled him to the core, fear sharp and painful in his chest, shaking him more than he thought possible. “How are you feeling?” he asked urgently.

“A little dizzy, but I’m all right,” Kili replied in a daze, blinking rapidly. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you’d come here,” Thorin said, his voice slightly hoarse. His pale blue handkerchief in his trembling hand was stained red and the bleeding hadn’t completely ceased. “Haven’t I told you not to try this and only watch?” he said, trying to sound stern but only sounding distressed and afraid.

Suddenly Kili pushed him away, frowning. Thorin caught him before he managed to stand up and leave. He went easily, too easily. He lied, Thorin realized, the panic cold and heavy in his guts. He was disoriented, yet still he tried to push Thorin’s hands away, still he tried to appear strong. Thorin tightened his grip on the thin arm, wishing Kili would let him take care of him, wishing Kili would let him keep him safe from harm.

“When will you let me try? I’m not even allowed to play fight with Fili! Will I ever be allowed to train?” Kili demanded angrily.

“You will be once you get better,” Thorin tried to appease him.

Kili shook his head. “I’m all right now but I still had to lie to practice!”

“Kili…” Thorin reached out to pull him to an embrace but Kili avoided his hands and the rejection cut deeper than anything. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I’ll be all right! I know I’m weak and get sick a lot, but I won’t get better if you won’t let me try to! I want to train to be a warrior with Fili and the others! I want to be a warrior like you, Father, Mr. Dwalin and everyone else! Why wouldn’t you let me be like them?”

Sadness crept into Kili’s voice. The preferential treatment meant to protect him had isolated him, kept him away from doing what other dwarfs his age did. Thorin had always known he longed to join them and suspected envy or childish pride, but he hadn’t realized how it hurt Kili to only watch from afar but never take part. How did Kili feel when he was told stories of past battles fought by Thorin, his father, and others? He was young but he understood that the very same was expected from him, that he was to be a warrior prince. Yet, he was confined to his bed most of the time and barely allowed to do anything when he wasn’t. Perhaps instead of easing his longing, Thorin had only hurt him more by making him watch. Thorin looked at the bloody handkerchief in his hand and the slight figure of his nephew and the thought of seeing him in battled sent him fear that he had never known before. He never wanted to hurt Kili but what hurt less? Physical pain or the pain of not quite belonging?

“I may not be as strong as Fili now, but I can do this,” Kili said quietly. When Thorin looked at him he saw determination in his glassy eyes. “Let me do it,” he begged.

Thorin shut his eyes. His decision would determine Kili’s future and the weight of the responsibility was heavier than anything he had ever felt before. He wished Kili would understand that he only wanted the best for him, that Thorin simply hated to see him ill and in pain, that Thorin would do a great many things to keep him safe and happy. However, perhaps what Thorin considered the best for Kili wasn’t truly the best from Kili’s point of view nor the best for his future. Perhaps, what he considered to be kind was actually painful. When Thorin opened his eyes again, he smiled ruefully and dabbed the remaining blood on Kili’s forehead. The bleeding had mostly stopped now, leaving nothing but a thin wound which would disappear in a matter of days. Thorin hoped this would be the last wound ever sustained by Kili, but he knew it was a futile hope.

“We’ll talk about this with your parents first. If they agree, I will train you, but we will do this slowly and we stop whenever you feel unwell.”

Kili eventually nodded. Relieved, Thorin pulled him close and lightly kissed the wound. Kili smiled widely as Thorin accompanied him home. The smile only grew when Dis and Vilir reluctantly agreed to let him train under Thorin’s watch. Now, any injury Kili received would be his fault, whether directly or indirectly. Now, he was responsible for Kili’s wellbeing. The responsibility was heavy, almost as heavy as the one he had for his people. It suffocated Thorin for a moment with self-doubt with fear and with believe that he could not live knowing he had partaken in harming Kili in some way. There was fear of not doing it properly, of being the cause of more harm than good, but Kili looked at him with eyes full of hope and Thorin couldn’t resist. He knew Kili would push himself to his very limit. He would not admit pain and discomfort until it was too late. He would receive injuries worse than what he had today. But, by taking these risks, he would become a part of the dwarfs he had only heard of and watched. By taking these risks, he could end the isolation forced upon him by good intentions. By taking this risk, he would be happy. Thorin smiled and patted Kili’s head. He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

* * *

The road to becoming a warrior wasn’t been easy. Thorin and Dwalin and sometimes Vilir watched over Kili’s training closely. They were careful with stretching his limits. Any sign of exhaustion led to a quick rest and thorough examination. It annoyed Kili and he always insisted that he could do more, but his mentors always knew better than to blindly trust him. A few times, despite their best precautions, exhaustion made him fall ill. The sight of Kili pale and helpless in his bed always stabbed Thorin with guilt. He brought that by agreeing to train him, by letting the training go too far and exhaust him. Many times, he tried to end the training, convincing Kili that there were honor, power and strength as well in the less taxing works of a scribe or other less physical professions, but Kili always refused, insisting to become the warrior as any Durin prince should be.

However, diligent training eventually bore fruits. Kili became stronger by each passing day and illness which used to plagued him every other month now only came twice of thrice a year. His hands, which had often been too weak to lift spoons to eat, now could lift the heavy weight of weapons. Once he had been unable to exert himself more than an hour, now he ran through forests with ease. Oin’s prediction that he wouldn’t see adulthood was slowly but surely proven wrong. Kili survived and became a warrior worthy of praises and songs. He was skillful with various weapons, but still Thorin couldn’t quite remove the fear of what tiredness could do to Kili. Thorin had been hesitant when he suggested archery to Kili, fearing it would offend him. However, surprisingly, Kili had accepted the idea readily. It suited his love for hunting and came with the added benefit of being relatively less tiring than other weapons. Thorin had sighed in relief when Kili started to focus on honing the skill. It was a rather unusual choice for dwarfs, but Thorin would gladly break a few traditions to keep Kili safe and well.

There was one thing that extensive training wouldn’t change, however. Kili never filled out the way most dwarfs do. Although muscular, he was always rather slender. No matter how hard he tried, how much food he consumed, he never gained substantial amount of weight. Part of that could be blamed on his rigorous training, but another part was due to the many ailments he had had as a child and still had now. His bouts of sickness, though now rare, hit him harshly. On those miserable days, he could barely stay awake long enough to eat properly and the muscles he worked so hard to develop lay unused for days and even weeks. When he recovered, he immediately tried to regain what he had lost, but it was a losing battle. Still, he didn’t let the knowledge stop him. Indeed, despite his difficult early life and its effects on him, he was still Durin’s son, refusing to go without fighting to get what he wanted.

“Kili, look.”

The hushed words, followed by distant giggling, drew Thorin attention. The tavern was crowded and noisy as usual but he was so well-attuned to his nephews’ voices, used to listening to them to make sure they didn’t get themselves into troubles, that Thorin immediately noticed it. He looked up from his tankard and searched what had drawn the lads’ interest. He found them sitting at a nearby table, grinning and speaking in hushed tone, while looking at a table of young lasses, who were talking among themselves while trying unsuccessfully to try to hide the fact that they were watching the two young princes. Thorin scoffed and shook his head.

Dwalin grunted beside him. “The lads have found lasses, I see. It’s about time.”

Thorin paused briefly before returning his attention to his drink. Truthfully, he didn’t pay close attention to people Fili and Kili associated themselves with, trusting that Dis and Vilir would intervene if they thought any of their sons’ friends were of questionable reputation. Now that Dwalin had brought it to his attention, he was admittedly worried that in their eager curiosity his sister-sons would overstep lines they shouldn’t cross. But, he felt he was the last person to teach about social life. Thorin was all too aware of his lacking social skills. He had nothing to advise to his young heirs in this matter. There would be a day when Thorin would have to tell them who they could or should be close to, but for now he would let them develop friendship and romances on their own. Thorin smiled bitterly to his ale, remembering how limited his circle of friends had been at Fili’s age, how many nights he spent wishing for honest company. He had barely known anyone outside of a few young lords, all of whom were told to win his favor for political reasons. He didn’t wish it to happen to Fili and Kili, confining them to the dreary world of politics more than their blood already had. Let them learn the world and make their mistakes. Thorin and their parents would be there for them if ever they needed help.

“When I was their age, I was busy training,” Dwalin groused.

Thorin scoffed. “That hasn’t changed.”

Dwalin didn’t bother trying to argue. “It’s far more useful than chasing after dames,” he said before gulping his drink.

Thorin smiled and said nothing. It was more useful, perhaps, for the life of a warrior Dwalin had chosen, but whether it was better still remained to be seen. Thorin himself had partaken in some exploration in his youth, sneaking messages behind his elders’ and attendants’ backs, holding hands out of view, and even stealing a few kisses here and there with young lords and ladies alike. But, his exploration didn’t last long. After he and his people were displaced from Erebor, his attention was solely on survival and finding a new home. Life lessons he learnt along the way in far less glamorous settings and only in passing. When he realized how alone he was, it was far too late. He was too embittered by the world, too burdened by responsibility, too weary and damaged to be loved. Some still hoped for heirs from him, but he had resigned himself to a life of solitude. However, it wasn’t late yet for his sister-sons. They still had the chance to discover themselves and explore their world, to have the romance he never had. They could still escape the fate he had.

“Oh, there he goes.”

Thorin watched Fili approached the lasses’ table with his characteristic swagger. He bit back a grin. His oldest nephew always had a certain confidence in him and his dimpled smile never failed to win people over. The lasses were no exception. Thorin and Dwalin chuckled when they swooned when Fili talked to them. Though they were too far to hear what he said, they saw the lasses giggle and blush and bat their eyelashes coquettishly at him. It didn’t take too long for Fili to persuade one of them to talk with him in private in another table. Thorin watched the young couple for a moment before returning to his drink, trying not to think of the last time he had such company.

“Missing some romance, aren’t you?” Dwalin snickered when he noticed Thorin’s mood. He merely smirked when Thorin sent him a withering look. “I’d wager half of this place won’t mind your company,” he said, gesturing around them with his tankard.

“I’d wager I have better things to do than flirting with strangers,” Thorin retorted wryly.

“You do know it’s not just flirting you can do?”

Ignoring Dwalin, Thorin turned his attention to his other sister-son. Kili was still at his table, looking unsure. He alternated between looking at Fili enviously and looking at the lasses helplessly. When the objects of his fancy caught his gaze, he bowed his head and squirmed. After ordering another tankard of ale for courage and finishing it far too quickly, Kili rose to his feet. His attempt to mimic his brother’s swagger was closer to a stagger and it was difficult to tell whether the flush on his face was due to alcohol or self-consciousness. He was determined, however, and trudged on to the lasses’ table. Kili put on a smile which had endeared him to so many, but the lasses didn’t respond positively. Unlike the way they smiled coyly when Fili was at their table, they now frowned and pursed their lips at Kili. He tried, awkwardly trying to strike conversation and offering smiles, but it was all for nothing. Confidence quickly drained from Kili, made obvious by his slumping posture. After receiving a pointed glare, he returned to his table with heavy steps and bowed head.

Dwalin murmured his sympathy at this, but Thorin couldn’t say anything. The lad looked painfully dejected and ashamed – feelings that Kili should never be acquainted with yet dogged him most stubbornly. Thorin had seen that expression too many times when Kili was forbidden to do things others did. He recognized the self-loathing usually hidden behind blind determination. Thorin wanted nothing more than to reach out to him to comfort him, but he minded the fact that they were in public, knowing that Kili – as any other young dwarf – didn’t like being coddled in front of others. He could only watch as Kili drank alone. To others he might seem to immediately recover his good nature, but Thorin knew better, having observed him with care for so many decades. Thorin saw his longing glances at Fili and his companion. Rejection was never easy to take and even more so for those who had been singled out by the society for all their lives. Kili exited the tavern without a sincere smile or a word of goodbye, and Thorin couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“Where are you going?” Dwalin asked when Thorin stood up from his seat.

Thorin didn’t even look at his friend as he gave his answer. “I’ve had enough drink tonight.”

Thorin didn’t heed his friend’s protest – his sole attention was on Kili. He rushed out of the tavern, ignoring the cool night air that greeted him outside. It wasn’t so late that the streets were deserted. There were many people still, having fun with friends and loved ones. Songs and cheers streamed out of bright establishments. It made the thought of Kili leaving the tavern alone so quickly even worse. Thorin hastened his steps and gave quick nods to those who bowed at the sight of him. He scanned the crowd, looking for that familiar mess of dark hair and slender limbs. Much to his relief, Kili hadn’t gone too far, his pace slow, although Thorin couldn’t tell whether that was due to his gloom or the atmosphere. Compassion drove Thorin forward, aching to relieve Kili of the pain of rejection. The lad had had enough of it. Thorin wished he would only ever know acceptance from there on, but the courses of life and heart were not subject to a king’s wishes and commands.

“Isn’t it too early to go home?” Thorin asked as he reached Kili.

Kili turned around in surprise. “Thorin! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Thorin gave him a small smile. “Dwalin insisted that I need to leave my office once in a while.”

At this, Kili laughed loudly. “And he is right! But, now I have to ask you: Isn’t it too early to go home?”

The mischievous twinkle in Kili’s eyes was illuminated by lights from the taverns around them. He was almost himself, an ever-cheerful and ever-loving dwarf. He was not thoughtful charismatic Fili, but he had his strengths. His earnestness and determination, learned in the frustrating years of being restricted by his health, were admirable. How the lasses did not see these and instead saw irrelevant flaws, Thorin would never know.

“I saw you leave.”

The playfulness disappeared as Kili understood the implication of Thorin’s answer. He shrugged nonchalantly but the way he avoided Thorin’s gaze was telling. “Fili was busy, so I thought I’d look for fun elsewhere.”

“Kili…”

“It’s all right!” Kili interrupted too loudly and too quickly. “I’m going to look for Bofur. If anyone knows how to have fun, it’s him!”

Thorin wondered who this Bofur was but quickly dismissed the thought. Thorin studied Kili closely. There was unhappiness in the clenching of his jaws and insincere curve of his lips, and sadness had dulled his bright eyes. Decades ago, Thorin would pull him into his arms and comfort his with true but hollow words. But, Kili was almost an adult now. Thorin’s protective embrace wouldn’t be appreciated, no matter how Thorin ached to comfort him.

“I also happen to have a few bottles of delicious wine, if you’re interested. I’m sure the cook will manage to make us something to go along with it,” Thorin offered with a smile.

Thorin blinked when Kili looked at him in irritation. “It happens,” Kili said quietly but powerfully. “I know I’m not the most handsome dwarfs. I’m too thin and I don’t even have a beard. I don’t have Fili’s charm, Mr. Dwalin’s looks, Mr. Balin’s intelligence, or your kindness and strength. Most don’t find me attractive. It’s just the way it is.” Try as he might, bitterness seeped out of his voice, telling Thorin that these observations were earned the hard way.

The argument made Thorin’s blood run cold. “Who said this to you?” he asked menacingly.

“No one! But I’m not stupid. I know why people may not want me.” Kili took a deep breath, very clearly trying to fortify himself.

Thorin swallowed thickly when he saw the steely strength in Kili’s eyes. He wanted his sister-sons to be strong, but not this way. He didn’t want them to be so familiar with rejection and loneliness that they knew how to ignore them. He especially didn’t wish this pain on Kili who had fought for a chance to live from early age. It was enough that Thorin knew it too well during his wandering days. He wanted his nephews to only know happiness, to learn disappointment only in small portions. But it was not to be. The world wasn’t a friendly place. Pain and hardships would find them no matter how Thorin tried to shelter them. They would experience those, whatever Thorin did to prevent it, and it would be Thorin’s greatest regret.

Sighing, Thorin clasped the nape of Kili’s neck, making the youth frown in wariness. He smiled, studying the young face. He wished Kili didn’t have to learn more of this lesson, but there were many decades before him, various experiences-some good, others bad-were waiting for him. Kili would learn yet more. The least Thorin could do was to be there for him, to help him and accompany him whenever he needed him. If he needed him.

“There is nothing wrong with you. We are all flawed. It isn’t a mistake to not be perfect,” Thorin said softly. “Don’t stop trying to improve yourself, but don’t listen to those who don’t believe that imperfection and mistakes are natural parts of life.” He waited for Kili’s nod, tightened his grip briefly, and then let him go. “Now, weren’t you going to find that friend of yours?”

Kili nodded. He turned away, hesitated, and then looked at Thorin. “Would you like to join us?”

Thorin chuckled. “I’m not a good companion.”

“You are,” Kili argued. “Even if you are not, some ale and Bofur’s songs will make you one. Join us,” Kili tried again.

Thorin was sure that he brought more gloom than joy, but he couldn’t refuse Kili and not only because of what he had recently seen. Not too long after, he found himself in a small cheap tavern watching a miner sing beautifully on a table as other customers cheered and danced around him. He sat back, unaccustomed to such thing, but amused nonetheless. However, new and strange as the scene was, Kili’s wide smile and joyous laughter were familiar. Thorin watched him dance and drink and sing with strangers and friends alike, slowly erasing the memory of rejection earlier in the evening, slowly regaining his cheerful disposition. Thorin brought the cheap ale to his lips to hide his smile, vainly hoping that smiles and happiness would stay with Kili forever.

* * *

By each passing year, Kili grew stronger and stronger, surpassing his peers and becoming an equal to Thorin’s best warriors. Perhaps inevitably, he began to want more, to see what the world had to offer, what _he_ had to offer to the world. Disregarding his family’s concerns, Kili took apprenticeship as a guard, a lowly position not befitting his station, but he insisted that it would give him the experience he needed. On his first assignment, Thorin could scarcely eat, work or sleep, imaginings of the worst haunting him. However, Kili returned safely and despite Thorin’s constant fears of the worst, his skill was proven over and over again as he returned from each job safely. His parents gradually stopped worrying and even Fili started to encourage him to take more risks.

Indeed, there was nothing to worry about. Despite his age, Thorin would name him among his best warriors along with Fili and Dwalin. Yet, Thorin worried over him still. He watched Kili’s every departure and fight with hands clenched as tightly as his heart. He spent countless hours thinking how he wanted Kili where he could ascertain his safety and happiness. He welcomed Kili with relieved smiles and clasped his shoulder so tightly in a vain attempt to keep Kili with him always. When Kili was in Ered Luin, Thorin tried to spend as much time with him as he could, even if this sometimes brought him to establishments he wouldn’t normally glance at, all so he could learn about the growth and changes of Kili’s character and experience away from his influences.

There weren’t many things Thorin enjoyed more than spending time with Kili. Few made him laugh as hard as Kili did. Even less he deemed trustworthy enough to hear his thoughts. Every moment spent with Kili, whether talking about their duties or their family or merely conversing lightly about the happenings around them, always left Thorin feeling content. He valued Kili’s thoughts, though some might say he shouldn’t, considering Kili’s age. But, Thorin had seen his combat skill, had welcomed him from dangerous travels, had listened to his ideas on how to best serve their people. Thorin might not show it, Kili might not realize it, but Thorin considered Kili one of his closest peers, those he considered equal to him, if not in status then in mind. Having experienced great betrayal that cost him his home and his life, Thorin was careful in where he put his trust, always wary of possibility that he would be disappointed when he needed help the most. But, he never had any doubt in Kili’s loyalty.

Nevertheless, he wondered if he had done the right thing by allowing Kili to join the quest to reclaim Erebor. Kili had experience in guarding merchants, but the world was far more dangerous. Though Kili faced each threat in the journey courageously, a deep fear grew inside Thorin. He was more cautious in his moves than usual, holding back when he usually attacked, sometimes frustrating the very dwarf he tried to protect. His nerves even got the better of him sometimes, making him irritable to everyone around him. It was a wonder that the hobbit, Bilbo, wasn’t frightened off by him. Once he witnessed Bilbo’s worth to the company, Thorin was rather ashamed to have doubted Gandalf’s choice to include Bilbo and tried to amend himself, finding an apprehensive yet kind companion in him. To him Thorin trusted the fate of the quest and some of his history and concerns for the future. It helped to unload some of his burden. But, there was nothing Thorin could do to alleviate his worry over Kili. He stayed close to Kili whenever they stopped for the night. He called Kili to him when he seemed to get too close to the wargs. He shouted Kili’s name in despair when he thought he lost him in the thunder battle. He gripped Kili’s shoulder tightly when they faced the Goblin King. He looked at Kili when Gandalf informed the company of the volatile temper Beorn sometimes had. He made sure that Kili was safe first and foremost. He felt his heart cracked when he heard Kili and the elf maid.

At first Thorin felt betrayed. He was livid as he listened to the conversation that was almost hidden by the snores of the company. Kili knew the history between their people and the Mirkwood elves. How could he deign to talk to one of them in such a friendly manner? How could he consider them anything but enemy? How could he turn against Thorin? Then, as the conversation progressed to something undeniably tinged with longing, Thorin was despaired, feeling that he was losing Kili. He had lost Erebor, his wealth, his status, his people. He had barely come close to regaining his home. He might never see his family and friends in Ered Luin again. He couldn’t lose Kili. The mere thought of it, of no longer having the companionship he cherished, grieved him. But what could he do? As he crept away from the bars of his cell to stop listening to the pair’s conversation, Thorin was overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness. Just as there was no way to prevent tides from crashing into shore, there was no stopping Kili once he had set his mind on something. Thorin could demand him to forget the elf, but he doubted Kili would listen. He could demand Kili to fulfill his obligations, but Thorin had no power over his affection.

Though upset by the overheard conversation, Thorin was still terrified when Kili was injured by the orcs. His heart stopped when Fili called Kili’s name in alarm. Kili might pretend that he was all right afterward, but Thorin noted his limping, the disappearing color from his skin, and the way he winced when he thought no one was looking. The sight brought back awful memories Thorin had thought had been left behind. He recognized Kili’s pain, discomfort, and sickness, terrible ghosts from the past catching up to Kili once again. Only the knowledge that Kili wouldn’t appreciate his worrying in public kept Thorin away. But, worry kept nagging him even as he plotted crossing the final distance between Laketown and his home. He kept Kili within his sight, fighting not to rush to him when he noticed that Kili’s limp had grown worse. Guilt assaulted him when Kili fell down the stairs to carry his order, his injured leg failing him. He should ignore Kili’s stubbornness and pride and provided him the care he obviously needed, but he recognized Kili’s internal berating to himself. Thorin wasn’t the only one blaming himself and he couldn’t hurt Kili more than he already did. It took far too long to reach a safe house provided by the Master of Laketown. Once the company was dispersed to rest or feast, he went in search of Kili.

“How is he?” he demanded quietly when he found Fili exiting one of the rooms with a deep frown.

Fili hesitated. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but he’s still in some pain,” Fili said carefully, a clear sign that he was hiding the true extent of his brother’s injury.

Thorin found it difficult to breathe. He looked at the closed door behind Fili, fearing what he might find there. “Call Oin,” he said quietly.

“Kili said it’s unnecessary,” Fili began.

“I know,” Thorin interrupted him. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Fili looked as if he wanted to argue, but finally nodded and left. The silence that he left behind him felt suffocating, producing awful imaginings of the situation hidden from Thorin. Fear wrapping tightly around his chest, Thorin pushed the door open. Inside, Kili sat on the bed, his legs stretched in front of him, a long strip of cloth wrapped tightly around one of his thighs. While the sight inside would seem ordinary to most, he knew the tale telling signs. He noticed the way Kili’s fingers dug deeply into his thigh to stem the pain from spreading across his body. He noticed the increasing paleness of his usually golden skin. He noticed pain in the startled gaze directed toward him. Thorin shook with efforts not to rush toward Kili to comfort him and ensure that he would be all right.

“How is your injury?” Thorin asked quietly, unable to summon the strength to affect power.

Kili shrugged. “It’s just fine,” he lied. “There’s just a little pain now.”

Thorin approached him slowly to sit beside him. Gently, he touched the bandage, earning a tightly concealed wince from Kili. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Thorin removed his hand. “You’re not all right.”

Kili huffed in dismay. “Well, I’m injured, but I’ll get better. I just need some rest, that’s all! I promise I won’t fail again!”

“You did not fail.” Thorin assured him gently. “I’ve asked Fili to call Oin. He’ll treat you properly.”

“There’s no need for Oin. Fili has sewn the wound closed,” Kili argued.

“I won’t bring you to Erebor if you aren’t healed properly,” Thorin countered, silencing Kili. He smiled tiredly when Kili scowled at his injured thigh. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You might injure yourself further.”

“I’ve had worse,” Kili said sullenly. “Do you remember when I got injured stopping a robbery near Nogrod? I lost a lot of blood at that time and everyone thought of the worst, yet I survived! This is nothing compared to that!”

Thorin closed his eyes. It was a memory he hated revisiting. It was years ago, but in his nightmares he still sometimes saw Kili lying pale and prone in his bed, a large bleeding gash crossing his chest. Thorin had spent those terrible nights by his bedside, clinging desperately to the small hope that he would survive this the same way he had survived many illnesses before. Kili had eventually recovered, but Thorin had come very close to losing him then. Indeed, Kili’s current injury was miniscule compared to that, but they were far from the comfort of home and there were far too many enemies around them. If one lucky robber could cause so much harm on Kili, what could experienced orcs do to him?

“Wouldn’t you rather stay?” Thorin suggested with a heavy heart. “You can recover better here than on the road.” He smiled to encourage Kili although it cut him to do so. “And you can see the elf maid again if you like.”

Kili was visibly flustered. “Why would I…. Of course I’d rather go with you!”

Thorin looked away, hiding his weaknesses from Kili’s disbelieving eyes. “I heard you talk to her that night.”

“It was just a conversation. I can barely call her a friend,” Kili groused. “You must take me with you!”

“If you stay you might befriend her.”

“Do you really think I would choose a possible friendship over you and your dream? Do you think I’m so disloyal? Even though I wish…” Kili stopped himself, but the unspoken was clear to Thorin. He wished to stay with the elf, to be with her, to live without the suspicion and prejudice deeply embedded in Thorin. “I’d choose you over anything and anyone, including Tauriel. But would you choose me to be among those you take to Erebor? Would you fulfill your promise to show our home to me? Or would you choose someone else? I know you’re tired of watching over me and dealing with my faults.”

The bitterness in Kili’s voice and expression was all too familiar for Thorin, but for a difference. This time, it was directed to him. This time it was Thorin who failed him. The guilt it inspired was unbidden. Thorin had always accompanied him, stayed by his side until he recovered, waited for him until he could catch up, trusted that he would be better than anyone ever thought. But not this time, when it was most crucial for Kili to follow and to be trusted. Even though Thorin knew it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel he had betrayed his trust. Thorin had promised himself to believe Kili when everyone else doubted him and to show him their true home, and he had failed both tonight.

“I’ll never tire of you. I want you beside me when I step into Erebor, when I make Erebor our home again, but I won’t risk worsening your injury. I would have you with me if I could.” His guilt deepened when Kili looked at him disbelief. “Believe me, Kili, to me you are…”

 _Everything_.

The word came to his mind unbidden and Thorin knew it was the truth. He knew then that to him Kili had become as important as his duties to his people, as Erebor, as the Arkenstone. He realized then that he wanted Kili happy and by his side almost more than he ever wanted anything. He understood then that what he had taken as a feeling of betrayal was jealousy and what he thought was familial compassion was truly love. The realization shook Thorin to the core for he had long abandoned pursuit of love, relegated himself to the empty fate of never knowing the privilege of such deep affection. Yet, here he was, undoubtedly utterly and completely in love with his sister-son. He knew not when it started, when platonic affection turned into love rooted deep into a heart kept guarded and a soul so tired. He knew only that it was real and it was not to be so easily removed. In his heart of heart, he knew it was to stay until his last day. In his deepest soul, he knew no amount of coveted gold would make him feel so whole.

However, with this realization came great fear. How could he bring someone so precious to him to grave danger? He believed in Kili’s skills, but his newfound love for him and desire to keep him safe wouldn’t allow him to take such risk. Thorin wanted to show Erebor to Kili, to give him his share of power and gold, to finally make him a prince, to provide him with the luxuries and happiness Thorin could still remember. But the road ahead was treacherous and a dragon might lay in wait for them. They had gone so far. Kili had proven his skills many times over. But what if these final challenges proved too much? What if Thorin failed him, failed his heart?

Before Thorin found an answer, the door cracked open and Oin entered. “You called for me?”

Thorin could read plea in Kili’s eyes, but love consumed him too much to give in. “Yes. Kili is injured.”

Kili grabbed Thorin’s arm before he could stand up and leave. He leaned close, not wanting to give away his desperation. “If I prove to be well enough to travel, will you take me with you?” he bargained.

There was no answer Thorin could give Kili, not when he was torn between desire to make him happy and desperate needs to keep him safe from any harm. Oin later assured him that Kili was healthy enough to continue the quest, provided that he had enough rest, but Thorin continued to doubt. It wasn’t until that night when Thorin spied Kili standing at the dock of Laketown that he made a decision. Thorin set his eyes on the Lonely Mountain in front of them, but Kili looked to Mirkwood Forest behind them. He might say otherwise but it was clear to Thorin that the elf maid meant more than a passing acquaintance to him. And why not? Thorin himself had seen her skills and heard her gentle curiosity. He had witnessed them finding themselves complementing each other. He knew that only his dreams and his old prejudices kept Kili away from the elf. Had things been different, had Thorin not been in a mission to reclaim his home, had the elves not betrayed him all those decades ago, it would’ve been different, Kili would have chosen her without doubt.

The thought pierced Thorin heart, but instead of anger, he felt resigned. After all, what could he offer Kili to keep him near? Power and wealth held no sway on Kili. He was as comfortable living in simplicity as he was living in luxury. He found happiness in things often taken for granted. He could make friends even among those often ignored. The gold stored in Erebor, the wealth accumulated in exile, and the power seated under the mountain didn’t interest him. Thorin couldn’t even provide good company, for he knew himself well and understood the difficulty of his character. He was far too burdened by responsibilities and thoughts of past and future to bring the joy that many sought. The few friends he had were those who shared his history, who understood why grief so often shrouded him. Indeed Thorin wondered often why Kili was willing to keep him company. The elf maid had passion and inquisitiveness in abundance and goodness of heart that even Thorin could recognize. She had everything Kili would want and, most importantly, she had everything Kili deserved.

So, the next day before Kili could board the boat provided by the Master of Laketown, Thorin halted him. He avoided Kili’s eyes to keep his resolve. The cruel words he had prepared were bitter on his tongue, but it was for the best and Kili deserved nothing less.

“Not you. We must travel at speed. You will slow us down.”

His eyes stung. His chest felt constricted. His heart broke. He never knew letting go hurt so much.

* * *

“It’s getting late, Thorin. You should rest,” Balin suggested.

Thorin looked up from his work to his friend. “I’m not tired yet but you should get some rest. Tomorrow will be another busy day,” Thorin refused, smiling.

Balin frowned. “We both have worked very hard today. You need to rest even if you’re not tired.”

Indeed they both had spent all day working, as they did for the past few weeks. The matter of rebuilding a kingdom wasn’t easy, requiring attention, time, and energy Thorin no longer had in excess. One issue after another was presented to him almost continuously, increasing in number as dwarfs from across Middle Earth returned to Erebor. There were days he wished he had taken the task at younger age, but those silly thoughts would yield nothing and so he dismissed them. This was his duty to perform. Just as he had no choice but to reclaim Erebor despite having already established Ered Luin, he had no choice but to carry the responsibility of turning Erebor into a home for his people again. If the wounds he sustained from the recent battle made him more easily tired than before, then it was his burden to bear, people shouldn’t suffer for it.

“I will go in a moment. I want to finish this report first,” Thorin lied.

“Let me help you,” Balin offered, starting to return to his previous seat.

“There’s no need for that.” Thorin said before Balin could sit down. “There isn’t much left to do. You may go.”

“You push yourself too hard, laddie,” Balin gently reproached him, forgetting his place for a moment and using the old affectionate name he used to use. “Let us help you.”

They had helped. Despite Thorin doubt and reluctance to accept help, people insisted on serving him and Erebor in any way they could. Bilbo’s keen eyes and sharp observation proved valuable once again and he approached Thorin often to tell him happenings others had missed. In fact, his return to his humble home had cost Thorin greatly in terms of assistance and good company, leaving Thorin rather sorry, although he understood that a hobbit’s place was under a hill, not a mountain. Fortunately, the company readily picked up the slack and assisted him in his duties, regularly reporting any issue to him and putting their unique skills to use in rebuilding the kingdom. Balin and Dwalin resumed their duties in Ered Luin, protecting the mountain and advising Thorin. Though the scales of their duties increased manifolds, they didn’t complain, serving him and his people loyally. Fili had begun to assume the role of a crown prince he was always meant to take and was often found working with Thorin or Dain. He proved himself worthy of the  title, gaining admiration and loyalty that would serve him well in the future. Meanwhile, Kili…

“You have helped. Now have some rest. I expect you here again tomorrow.”

Balin argued and lingered but eventually left Thorin alone in the royal study. Alone, Thorin tried to return to the many reports he planned to read tonight, but he found it difficult now that he remembered that Kili was in Mirkwood. It was Thorin himself who had ordered Kili to go to Mirkwood as an envoy. He had seen him bid the elf maid reluctant farewell. He had noticed how restless Kili had been after the battle, unable to adjust to the dreary life of a prince. He had realized how in meetings with him Kili’s mind wasn’t in the matters of governance. Kili had stayed out of a sense of duty and loyalty to Thorin, not because he wished to. Although Thorin knew this all along, having expected it since he once again took his throne, since he heard Kili’s conversation with the elf, it still cut him deeply to make the decision to order Kili to go. He knew he might not see Kili again. He knew Kili might find him heart belonging more to Mirkwood and Erebor. He knew he likely had put an end to whatever small chance he had with Kili. But it was what Kili wanted and there was no better way for Thorin to give closure to his feelings than giving happiness to his beloved.

If only it were so easy. Thorin left his seat, suffocated by thoughts of never seeing Kili again. He swayed a little, too many days of working tirelessly to forget his heartbreak was slowly but surely taking its toll on him. He paused to remove his disorientation, leaning heavily against his desk. When he felt better, he slowly walked to a window to find fresh air. At such late hour at this altitude, the air was cold, making him shiver despite the fur he wore. But, Thorin withstood it, as it was a reminder that he had realized his lifelong dream to reclaim Erebor. This brought a small smile to his face. He might be losing Kili, but at least he had gained something equally important. He only had to convince himself that having Erebor was enough, that the space vacated by Kili would hurt less if he’d only focus on the fact that he was home again. Hadn’t he learnt from his too-recent lapse of sanity? Greed only brought sufferings. Thorin might be king, but he couldn’t have everything. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he longed for Kili, he must accept that it was not to be and maybe, _maybe_ , he would find himself some peace in being lonely.

Thorin clutched the edge of the window as a dizzy spell hit him. Perhaps he should ask Oin to examine him in the morning, but he worried about what the result would do to his tasks. His advisors were still on their way to Erebor from Ered Luin and he didn’t have the heart to leave everything to poor Balin, who was as overworked as he was. Dain and Fili, too, were already occupied with various duties Thorin had assigned to them. Until more dwarfs arrived in Erebor, Thorin must continue as he did now, even though he worried his body had begun to protest. He had only narrowly escaped death in his fight with Azog. His injuries had healed but he knew he would never be quite the same again. He was more easily fatigued and on days he had to perform many physical tasks, his healed wounds started hurting. The King under the Mountain was no longer invincible, but such was the cost of deadly battles. Such was the cost of loving so deeply one who would never love him back. Thorin leaned heavily against the wall, waiting for his strength to return, for his heart to not break any further.

“Thorin!”

The voice cut through the fog accumulating in Thorin’s mind. Before he knew it, he was already led to a chair by Kili. _Kili_. Thorin stared at him as he was helped to sit down. Was it a trick brought by ailing body and mind? It must be, yet Kili was solid under Thorin’s weak body and his touches sent sparks across his tired nerves. His fingers twitched in a moment of confusion, catching the unyielding strength hidden in Kili’s arm, undeniably real, undeniably here with him.

“You’re sick,” Kili said, frowning in concern. “I’ll call Oin for you.”

Kili’s worry brought Thorin back to his senses. Slowly, he leaned away, extracting himself from the warmth and strength he yearned for. “I’m all right. Shouldn’t you be in Mirkwood? I thought you’re supposed to return in a week’s time.”

“I’m needed here.” Kili looked at Thorin’s desk which overflowed with too many scrolls to count and frowned in dismay. “No wonder you’re sick.”

“I have help. I’m only a little tired,” Thorin lied. He stared as Kili put his hand on his cheek, strong and warm. The simple contact lit his nerves. It had been so long since they had been this close. Thorin became acutely aware how he had craved it, how desperately he had yearned for Kili’s presence and touch. So many nights he had lain in his cold bed, wishing for a scrap of Kili’s affection and now Kili gave it to him. But, this could not be, they could not be. Kili wasn’t his to have and he mustn’t held Kili back with blind loyalty.

Kili glared at him. “You have a fever!”

“It will pass after I sleep. Now, shouldn’t you get some rest? It’s quite late and you must have only just arrived. You must be tired.”

Kili shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not so tired that I can’t take care of you. You are not well. I can’t sleep knowing that.”

Warmth bloomed inside Thorin. Hope thought to have perished grew despite Thorin’s efforts to remove it. Oh, how cruel the tantalizing possibility was. But, it was only wishful thinking. The sooner he allowed Kili to follow his heart, the better it would be for both of them. “There’s no need to worry about me. You shouldn’t have come home only because of my duties. How was Mirkwood? Did everything go well? Did you meet the elf maid?” Thorin asked.

Shrugging distractedly, Kili answered, “It went well – I have some things Thranduil proposed that I should discuss with you later – and I did meet Tauriel. She was assigned to accompany me during my stay.”

Thorin smiled bitterly. “She must be disappointed that you left so early.”

“No, she didn’t mind,” Kili said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

Perhaps it was his fever or his mounting heartbreak and frustration, but Thorin found himself unable to summon the gentleness he usually reserved for Kili. “I know that you love her!” he snapped. “I know that she healed you in Laketown and brought you to safety. Bilbo even told me that you went to safe her in the battle and she stayed with you while you recovered. There’s no need to stay here for me. I can manage without you!” Thorin closed his eyes tightly, fighting dizziness and pain brought by his own words.

Thorin had expected shame and shock, but he hadn’t anticipated anger to match his frustration. Kili scowled at him with ire Thorin had never seen directed toward him. “So you’d rather listen to Bilbo than hear my explanation?” he demanded. When Thorin didn’t reply, he huffed. “I should’ve known since you chose to take him to Erebor instead of me and gave him a mithril vest that I have no hope. How stupid of me to still return for you despite all that.” Kili looked away, but Thorin was perceptive enough to notice his glassy eyes and recognize the pain in his voice. “I’ll call Oin. You clearly need his attention,” he said, his voice cracking just the slightest.

“Wait.” Thorin managed to stop Kili by grabbing his arm, the last of his strength able to prevent Kili from leaving. However, he had no word to say. Surely he had misunderstood. Surely there was no hope for what he had dreamed of in secret. Yet, the sad look on Kili’s face could be construed as otherwise. Hopefulness and pessimism warred in Thorin’s throbbing head and he couldn’t decide which one he’d rather have.

“There’s nothing between me and Tauriel. We did wonder about what could be between us, but we decided that it’s better for us to remain friends.” Kili swallowed thickly, his eyes suspiciously glassy again. “So, let me stay here and help you. You don’t have to… Just let me stay with you,” he implored.

Thorin weighed his chances carefully. Months of believing Kili had given his heart to another and convincing himself that he didn’t deserve Kili didn’t easily give way for courage. Perhaps the best thing to do was still to let Kili go, allowing him to be with someone better than Thorin. If Thorin was a difficult character to love before, he was an even less desirable dwarf now with consequences of war leaving permanent scars on his mind and body. Kili deserved someone as kind and pure as he was. However, still Thorin longed for him. Even knowing his multitudes of flaws, Thorin still wanted Kili’s affection. He still wanted the privilege of being the one to hold Kili’s heart in his rough trembling hands. This could be a mistake. He might be dooming Kili to a lifetime of unhappiness. But, Thorin couldn’t help but take his chance just this once. “There’s nothing I want more than to have you by my side,” he confessed.

Kili’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Quickly, he knelt in front of Thorin, holding his hand tightly as if to not allow him to change his mind. “And there’s nothing I want more than to be by your side!” he exclaimed earnestly. Then, remembering something, he asked timidly, “But what about Bilbo?”

“He’s a friend. He has saved us so many times and I’m ever so grateful to him. But, I didn’t mean to listen to him more than I do you, nor did I mean to indicate I favor him over you,” Thorin explained apologetically.

The great sigh Kili released showed Thorin how this thought had burdened him so. He spied a small smile on Kili’s lips before Kili leaned forward to rest his forehead on their joined hands. He was so strong yet so vulnerable and Thorin loved him more than he thought possible. “I thought you and him were… That was why I approached Tauriel. I was sure she was the only one who would care about me.”

“Kili,” Thorin breathed. He cradled Kili’s cheek with his free hand to urge him to look up. The look of pure devotion he saw spread bone-deep affection over him and brought a smile to his face. To think he had almost missed this! “I’ve always cared about you. It is me who should be worried that you’d find me lacking. Why would you want an old, angry, broken dwarf like me?”

Kili chuckled hoarsely, looking at Thorin as if he hadn’t fully believed this turn of events. “You’re just fine.” he said, smiling, as he leaned up to tenderly kiss Thorin.

Kili stayed with Thorin that night when his fever grew worse and he became too weak to stay awake. He was still there when Thorin recovered enough to stand without assistance. He was at his side when Thorin resumed his duties, now with the help he needed but hadn’t wanted to ask for. He was a permanent presence by the throne as Erebor recovered and people came from near and far to pay their respect to Thorin. He remained there on Thorin’s bad days, when he cursed the passing time and his tainted blood and tried to drive people away to protect himself from being hurt. He was certainly there on Thorin’s good days, when he stole touches and kisses and laughed as if he didn’t have the weight of a mountain on his shoulders. And Thorin was there when Kili learnt about life and duties, when he grew into a prince he was always meant to be, when he repeatedly proved to be immune to wariness brought by time, when he pushed himself too hard and needed someone to remind him to not be too harsh on himself, when he looked at and touched and kissed Thorin as if he was the most precious thing under the Lonely Mountain. It wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always happy. They were far too different to complement each other perfectly. But, lying together at night on their bed, bodies pressing together, whispered love confessions wrapping around them, Thorin was content to know that they were quite all right.

**Author's Note:**

> I almost said at the end that Thorin was actually not all right and he died a few days later due to infectious fever but that was my cold-ridden brain talking. Aren’t we glad I didn’t listen? Also, I feel like I should categorize my involvement in the Hobbit fandom into pre-the King’s Bride and post-the King’s Bride because that fic forces me to change my style. For example, in this fic I think there are two distinct writing styles because some of it was written before I wrote the King's Bride.
> 
> Anyway, tell me to go to bed on [my tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/)!


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